Harder to Remember
by mostlypsychotic
Summary: France despaired when sweet little Finland befriended a human girl. He knew from experience what happened when those bonds got so deep, and he had tried to warn him...but if Finland wouldn't listen, he would have to be there for him many years later.


France remembered her name as well as Finland did, even so many years later. Her name was Aina, a very classical Finnish name. He had heard it escape the Finn in question's lips constantly when they first met, and it was a name that had caused him much despair.

_I tried so hard_, he thought sadly as he stood in the doorway, watching his old friend hold the dying woman's hand. _The poor fool...I tried to tell him..._

And he had, truly. The two had been together the day Aina came into their life, all long blonde hair and sparkling eyes and fast-talking in a language that he hadn't quite grasped yet. Finland lit up instantly, and the two had hit it off to the point where even France had to give them some time to themselves.

As he waited outside for the two to finish talking, he felt an all-too-familiar sense of dread, though he had tried to brush it off at first. He knew all too well what happened when bonds between humans and countries got deep, and he knew Finland's habit of getting too far into things quickly. It didn't bode well for him, he knew. But when they walked out together, he recognized the cheerful glint in the little Finn's eyes. And he knew it was too late.

So he made a promise, instead. The moment Aina was gone, he had pulled Finland to the bridge and gazed at him sincerely. It was almost unnerving for his young friend.

"Don't forget about time," was all he said. Finland nodded, his eyes straying to his feet. The way he had said it was almost shaming him, and now he was left to truly consider what he was doing. But at the same time, as cliched as it was, it was almost a connection. After just two hours with her, he knew that they would be friends for a long time.

"She's worth it," he said decisively. France nodded understandingly, looking past him to where the moon was casting light across the tossing water beneath them. It wasn't like he could berate him for that much. He had said those same words so many years ago. That was why he was so afraid to see the poor man's heart go through the same as his had then.

"I will be there for you," he promised musingly, trying to ignore the fact that tears head suddenly sprung to his eyes. Finland reached out to place a hand on his, smiling convincingly.

"That's years from now," he assured him. That had been fifty-two years ago, in fact. Now, here they were, in a cramped hospital with the woman who had changed them both.

Through those years, whenever he mentioned Aina, _her _name had come up in France's head. It was in a small, almost nagging voice, pleading with him to tell him not to do this to himself, that he can just forget about her.

_Don't let her be his Jeanne. _

But he had, anyway. He listened to the stories, his sadness growing with the relationship. A first kiss, the first time they spent the night together, even the first time they truly slept together. And then, Finland did the inevitable, just as France had assumed he would. He did what people like them were never supposed to do.

"The reason I never look any different is because I'm the personification of this country."

The Frenchman hadn't been there when they had that conversation, but Finland had recollected practically every detail. He had to explain it further for Aina to grasp the concept, and he had been so afraid of what she would say. She had sat in silence for a moment, slowly understanding what their situation was, and then she had smiled.

"I don't mind," she had said cheerfully. "To me, you're not Finland. You're Tino. But I love you either way." She had paused then, her smile fading into worry again. "Will you still stay with me?"

Of course, he had said yes. He would keep that promise for all of those years. There was really nothing France could have done to stop this from happening.

Humans and countries befriended each other all the time, he told himself. They never did what Finland had done, but they still made friends and went to houses and parties and enjoyed their company. But what Finland had with Aina was something completely out of the ordinary. No country would dare pursue anything deep with a human. Nothing romantic, nothing lifelong. They would never be able to keep their secrets like that. And so, if they wanted to be romantic, they were romantic with other nations. It simply hurt less. In fact, besides Finland's, there was only one case France could think of where a nation and a human had such a close bond, and it had ended in nothing but heartbreak.

It had been his own case.

He rose a hand to his forehead, fighting his own tears as Finland sobbed over the frail hand of his lover and best friend. Aina smiled weakly up at him, murmuring softly in their native language. Time didn't seem to exist anymore for any of them. There was just her comforting voice, slowly fading away as her hand went limp in Finland's and she lay back against the pillow for the last time.

France stepped forward slowly, wiping his damp cheeks. Finland had folded the woman's hands over her lap, his tears still falling relentlessly. As his nation friend took a seat beside him, he leaned on his shoulder, though neither of them spoke. They weren't quite sure what to say now as they looked at the still form on the bed. France couldn't help but think that she looked so peaceful, even happy.

"...Thank you," Finland murmured, gripping the Frenchman's hand. "For keeping your promise."

"I had to keep it for someone," France replied, wiping his eyes again. Finland didn't realize at the time what he meant, but the voice had returned to France's mind once again.

_You let her be his Jeanne. _


End file.
